


I Want You

by ArteaCactus



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, BUT LIGHT, Blood and Injury, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Roceit - Freeform, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders, TF, i literally had to type it out myself, its really sweet I swear, janus is feeling stuff, romans a little out of character but its ok, why did literally nothing come up for jan and ro in relationships??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArteaCactus/pseuds/ArteaCactus
Summary: Janus has never felt love like this before; why did it have to be for him, of all people?
Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Deceit | Janus Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Deceit | Janus Sanders
Comments: 9
Kudos: 173





	I Want You

**Author's Note:**

> this is short, it was done to answer a prompt on my Tumblr! if you'd like to request some more, feel free! my Tumblr is Hissceit :) id love any roceit/intrulogical things you could toss my way haha

Being who he was, Janus never really had _time_ for romance, relationships, _emotions_. He wouldn’t say he was as bad as Logan, of course, but he certainly was no Patton in terms of wide ranges of feeling. 

That wasn’t to say he _didn’t_ feel them, though. He did, but he buried them. Stuffed them down far enough within himself to suffocate them and keep his calm, cool façade. After all, it was showing those emotions that was the real weakness, not having them.

Unfortunately, though, sometimes he got blindsided by a new feeling- an admittedly more common occurrence now that he was... “ _accepted_ ”- and it made it harder to hide.

Especially when it just kept coming, and coming, and coming, and got worse _every time_.

Of course, Janus wasn’t a stranger to love. He loved warm clothes, snakes (obviously), and the color yellow. He loved hot soup and bitter coffee. However, for all the _things_ he loved, none of them was a _person_. He supposed he could say he “loved” Thomas, being his self-preservation- and therefore could go so far as to say he loved himself, too- and he really liked his good friend Remus, but he didn’t... _love_ them. Not in the way he was newly discovering, at least.

No, this love was something else.

This love made his fingertips buzz with electricity. This love made tingles go up his spine, made his hair rise in the most uncomfortably comfortable way. It made his heart flutter and stomach clench. It made him red in the face and made him feel like he was floating on air. 

It was new, and it was _terrifying_.

He found it so much harder to cram down his throat, he choked and sputtered on it until it glued his tongue to his teeth. He couldn’t wave a hand and have it flutter away, as it flew right back and brushed across his cheeks until they went red. 

And it just. Kept. _Happening_.

With bitter thoughts and a heavy scowl, Janus glared at the image in front of him.

Roman, the oh-so-dashing Creative Twin, his picture sitting on Janus’ mirror and staining his sight. The bright crimson seared his eyes and made him want to _look away_ , but it burned so _good_ he never wanted to stop staring, he _craved_ that sting.

He wouldn’t get out of his head- and worse, he wouldn’t get out of his _life_.

Roman was _everywhere_. Fumbling through the cupboards in the kitchen, sinking into the couch watching television, playing with some puzzle he stole on the coffee table- he sang loud enough for his voice to carry all the way to Janus’ dingy little room at the end of the hall.

It infuriated and saddened him all at once.

He and Roman still weren’t on the best terms. They tolerated each other, of course- neither would provoke each other without being given a reason- but they didn’t necessarily _like_ each other (at least, in Roman’s case). They just put up with each other’s presences until they could leave the room, for the sake of everybody else. 

And damn, wasn’t that just the biggest kick in the ass?

The only person who has, who _will ever_ , make Janus’ heart sing like a bluebird, was also the one who liked him the _least_. It physically pained him, in ways that he could never hope to understand.

Frustrated, Janus shot out of his seat on the edge of his bed, fists clenched and eyes icier than a glacier. He couldn’t help but shout, swinging his fist and punching the image on the mirror.

The glass shattered, shards digging into his knuckles and oh, would you look at that- the delightful crimson color he so hated to love, dancing across his skin like dew on leaves. They fell delicately onto his dark floors, pattering like the sound of rain hitting a window. 

Chest heaving, Janus’ legs gave out from beneath him, and he fell, tumbling to the ground. He leaned back against his wall, bare hands shaking with barely concealed anger.

Why did it have to be _him_?

“Why did it have to be him?” Janus echoed his thoughts aloud, voice bouncing around the walls of the room, void of a recipient. He repeated the question again, voice cracking like the glass of the mirror, and his gaze fell to the red driplets, rolling across his skin like a sickly sweet honey. 

The following silence rang in his ears louder than any noise ever could.

His shoulders shook with despair and he tucked his face into his hands, hiding them in his knees, hissing as glass pieces were jostled in his skin- but he didn’t remove them, not yet. He felt as if he deserved this pain, deserved a punishment for these foolish, foolish feelings. Feelings that he _shouldn’t have_ (distantly, he realized maybe he was a little like Logan).

Suddenly, a firm warmth grasped his wrist, followed by a concerned voice calling his name.

Jolting out of his thoughts, Janus’ head whipped up, blood from his injured hand decorating the side of his face. Immediately his sight was assaulted by a similar red color, and his lip curled in a defensive hiss as he realized the culprit.

“Woah, woah!” Roman let go of him quickly, raising his hands in defense. “Sorry for touching you! It’s just- I heard a shout, and this loud crash, and you’re _bleeding_ -”

“And why do you _care_?” Janus’ voice came out weaker than he’d intended, and rather than being intimidating, it had the exact opposite effect.

Roman’s eyes softened, and he floundered for an answer for a moment, before shaking his head. He didn’t reply to his question, and instead said, “Hold on, I’ll get the bandages.”

Janus couldn’t argue before Roman was gone, the burning crimson gone from his eyes.

He slumped over, running his uninjured hand through his hair. _Wonderful. You go years without a slip-up and after mere weeks in the Light Sides’ presence, you fuck it all up._

With his black, pointed claw-like nails, he delicately picked at the shards of glass in his knuckles, pulling them from his skin. He hardly registered the pain, feeling a distance, buzzing tingle in his sternum as he pulled- or perhaps that was just from having Roman in close proximity to him.

Speak of the devil, Roman appeared yet again as if he summoned him with the mere thought of his name, and slapped Janus’ prying nails away from the wounds. He kneeled down in front of him instead, and rested Janus’ hand in his lap, using warm water and tweezers to ease the pieces from his body.

Janus was silent, but his gaze was trained on the look of concentration and worry in Roman’s eyes. Why would he care? He never showed an ounce of kindness to Janus before, why start now?

He asked as much, repeating his question from earlier; his voice was stronger now, albeit shaky.

Roman, again, didn’t respond straight away, but after a minute passed, he finally gave him an answer.

“I don’t hate you, Janus.” He whispered, his own voice soft, like he thought if he spoke to loud it would be like Janus’ fist shattering the intimate moment like the mirror. “I never have.”

Janus’ reply came in the form of a disbelieving scoff, but Roman shook his head, quieting him. “It’s true. I may have been angry with you, maybe even uncomfortable, but I never hated you. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

They lapsed into momentary silence once more as Janus pondered his answer. He was confused, now. His fingers twitched as Roman’s soft skin glided over his own. “Then what of the insults, the avoidance? You are the only one to treat me as you have lately. _Virgil_ treats me kinder than you.”

Roman flinched as if he were hit, but he didn’t argue. Janus was right. “To be perfectly honest, I was afraid,” He admitted, “I.. You seemed perfectly happy with the distance, and I was afraid to be pushy, or annoying, if I tried getting all.. _cozy_.”

A gutteral growl rose from Janus as Roman dabbed alcohol on his cuts, the bitter sting bringing a tear to his eye. Admittedly, he didn’t know how to reply to that, so he didn’t. He just sat, thinking over his words. 

Roman didn’t try breaking the silence with more conversation, and instead wrapped his hand in thick swaths of bandages. Janus personally felt he was going a little overboard, but he didn’t protest.

When he finished, Roman didn’t stand, or leave. Rather, he scooted up next to Janus, and sat next to him, back pressed against the wall, one leg up with an arm resting on his knee. 

Janus gave him an odd look, and after a moment’s hesitation, murmured a soft ‘thank you’.

Roman inclined his head in acknowledgement, then looked over at the torn, red-stained picture of himself on the floor.

“Did I.. did I cause this?”

Janus didn’t reply for a long moment, gaze following Roman’s. He felt a tremble run through him, veins sparking with electricity. No lie he told could get him out of this scot-free. 

“Indirectly.” Was the answer Janus gave, “Nothing you’ve done caused it.”

“But it involves me, in some way.” Roman filled in, “I made you hurt yourself.”

Janus was quick to correct him, saying, “No, you didn’t- that was a decision _I_ made, albeit a stupid one.”

Roman shook his head, but didn’t drop it. “Janus, please. Tell me the truth. What’s going on?”

Janus tilted his head back, tearing his eyes from the picture on the floor to the chips of paint in his ceiling. 

He had nothing more to lose- his pride was already out the window, gone the moment the reason of his breakdown saw him crumpled on the floor, crying into his bloodstained hands. 

Plus, what lie could he really tell, at this point, that would make sense, without damaging his companionship with the Light Sides?

“Feelings, Roman.” Janus’ voice was both empty, void of emotion, and at the same time lit with a raging fire of everything bubbling inside of him, threatening to boil over. It was a broken sound, one that was unexpected, coming from him. “I’ve so many feelings, so many new things I’ve never felt before, and I can’t stand it.” He took a deep breath, steadying himself, “I love it, I love the raging sea and the unfamiliar, unpredictable storm that it carries and the way it makes me feel, but at the same time, _I hate it_. It’s cold and bitter and so, so scary.” His head rolled to the side, where Roman was openly staring at him in shock. He didn’t care; he continued to spill his heart to the epicenter of his affections. Now that he’d started, he couldn’t _stop_. “I have never felt this way about anyone, Roman. Fuck,” He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering shut. His knuckles burned. “I _love_ you, and it hurts, it hurts _so bad_ , but it feels so good. It feels so good to feel human, to have emotions. But it hurts so terribly to know that what I truly desire, I’ll never get.”

Janus felt the warmth of Roman’s hand brushing under his eyelid, coercing him to open his eyes and look at him. He was surprised at the sheer amount of raw emotion in the other’s gaze. 

“What is it that you truly desire, Janus?” Roman murmured, touch light as a feather against Janus’ skin. “What is it that you’re so determined you’ll never get?”

“You.” Janus admitted, voice hoarse and thick with feeling. He felt like he swallowed cotton, mouth dry and breath short. “I want your love, I want your devotion. I want your body next to mine when I wake up in the morning. I want your eyes to be the first thing I see, your voice to be the first thing I hear. I want to hold you, to be held, to kiss and to be kissed.” His hands shaky, he lifted a palm to rest atop Roman’s hand. “I want you, Roman.”

Roman’s forehead pressed against Janus’, and with a voice smooth as silk and soothing as honey, he whispered,

“You have me.”


End file.
